


Try To Think of it as a Gift

by SapphoIsBurning



Series: Simple Gifts [1]
Category: Professional Wrestling, World Wrestling Entertainment
Genre: Comeplay, Hair Washing, Hand Jobs, M/M, Past Dean Ambrose | Jon Moxley/Seth Rollins | Tyler Black, Rimming, Shower Sex, Snowed In, and then a bunch of emotional bullshit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-18
Updated: 2015-12-18
Packaged: 2018-05-07 11:29:19
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5454947
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SapphoIsBurning/pseuds/SapphoIsBurning
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean and Roman get snowed in on their way to a taping. Dean takes the opportunity to ask for something he's wanted for a long time. Roman gives it to him, at a price.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Try To Think of it as a Gift

**Author's Note:**

> I've been travelling for the holidays and hotels and weird cable channels and being snowed in are all fresh on my mind. Also, I wrote all this before finally getting to watch TLC *and* this week's Raw. Also also ignore the geography.
> 
> Also also also, merry Christmas. :)

They had to get from Reno to Portland. It shouldn't have been that hard. They left right from the Raw taping, hoping to get into town late and catch some zzzz's before the Smackdown taping instead of sleeping now and driving like a maniac to get there for call time Tuesday evening.

But there they were, cruising along in their rented Ford Taurus when the radio was interrupted for a winter weather advisory.

"Expect five to seven inches of blowing and drifting snow through the Northern California corridor."

"What?" Roman said, gripping the wheel. He could see the heavy clouds up ahead of them, forming a dark line in the sky compared to the blue sky they were currently under.

"I dunno, we'll probably be fine. Remember that blizzard in Indiana?" said Dean.

"Yeah, the one where we almost died? Jimmy still won't ride in a car where you're driving."

"Hey, we're still here, aren't we? I swerved with plenty of time."

Roman didn't reply to that. He just sat there, drumming his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel.

"There's still time to go through Sacramento. We could double back, get on I-80, then go up I-5." Roman hunched his shoulders in thought, still driving carefully.

"No way. We'd get in at like 6 am. We'll be fine," Dean reassured Roman.

An hour later, they hit it: the weather turned suddenly from a temperate night to almost whiteout conditions. Dean had fallen asleep in the passenger seat with his hoodie tucked up over him. Roman wasn't sure whether to wake him or not.

He drove carefully through a small town, deciding not to get gas yet, then headed out and north up a state road, which took them through an increasingly steep mountain pass. Roman wasn't sure if he was imagining it but it felt like the road was slick underneath him and the tires weren't getting enough traction.

He turned the wheel as the road curved to the right and suddenly the rental car was doing a one-eighty, spinning around the road. Dean startled awake, sputtering as the passenger side slammed against the guardrail. They both jerked against their seatbelts.

The car stopped moving. Everything was quiet and dark. They had spun so they were now facing the right direction, but in the other lane and pointed back the way they came.

"I'm taking this as a sign," Roman said. "We are getting a fucking hotel room for the night in that random town and we can deal with this when the sun melts it in the morning or the salt trucks come or whatever!"

Dean was dazed. "So you're turning this car around right now?"

"Technically I already turned it around," Roman said, gently accelerating up to a slow but reasonable winter highway speed and going back toward the town.

They pulled up in the parking lot of the Susanville Super 8 motel. "You stay in the car," Roman said.

"What, I'm going to embarrass you in front of the desk receptionist?"

"Just wait here." He slammed the door and was gone. Dean sat there, chewing the inside of his cheek. What did he do?

Roman came back to the car with an actual key fob dangling from his hand. "We got the last room left," he said. "One king bed."

"Cool. I get to be the big spoon," Dean grinned, getting out.

They hauled their gear out of the trunk and Roman led Dean to a side entrance. They went in, climbing the flight of stairs to the second floor, and then Roman unlocked their room.

It was a tight squeeze, even with the king bed. "The Super 8 really likes to cram it in," Dean said.

"Yeah, I don't know anyone else who likes doing that," Roman shot back.

"Hey now."

They set their gear down where it would fit in the tiny room.

"If we leave at 8 tomorrow and don't stop, we should be there by call time," Dean said absentmindedly.

"Is there anyone we need to call to tell them where we are?" Roman wondered out loud.

"I can call your mom to tell her I'm going to miss our date," Dean said.

"My mom loves you. She'd love to hear from you," Roman replied earnestly. "She still wants you to come home with me for Christmas, you know."

"Is she going to make me a Weasley sweater?"

"If I tell her now that you're coming, she can at least get a head start," Roman laughed.

Dean sat in a tiny chair to take his boots off. "I like your family but you have...a lot of family," he grunted, pulling at his left boot.

"Yeah, they're a lot to take," Roman laughed, stretching out on the bed.

"Your nieces like to climb on me. Is that going to get weird when they're older?"

"They're practically your nieces too, at this point. So it better not." He pointed a finger at Dean in a mock-scold.

Dean rolled his eyes and turned the TV on. It was a cheap flatscreen with analog cable piped into it, coming in grainy and at the wrong aspect ratio. He flicked channels: Family Guy, commercial, Forensic Files, commercial, commercial. Wrestling. Commercial.

"Wait, go back. What was that?" asked Roman.

Dean went back a channel. Shinsuke Nakamura was defending his Intercontinental Championship against someone neither of them recognized.

"What the hell cable channel shows New Japan Pro Wrestling?" Roman asked.

"I dunno."

"C'mere." Roman patted the bed next to him.

Dean threw his jacket over the back of the chair and flopped down hard on the bed, bouncing Roman up into the air.

"Hey!" Roman said, laughing and trying to punch Dean in the arm. Dean caught his fist and deflected the blow. They locked gazes with each other as Dean used his leverage to roll Roman onto his back, straddling him. Roman let Dean pin his arms over his head. He could get out of this hold if he wanted to, but he didn't want to.

Dean grinned maniacally and leaned down until his face was inches from Roman's. "Hey Reigns?" he said.

"Yeah, Dean?"

"Hi."

"Hi." Roman rolled his eyes. "Can you let go of me now?"

"Nope."

"Is there something you want?"

Dean nodded vigorously.

"...cuddles?"

Dean shook his head no.

"Watch Comedy Central till we pass out asleep?"

Dean shook his head again and grinned more.

"Can I come in your hair?" Dean asked.

"What, now?"

"Yeah, sure, not like we're going anywhere." Dean lowered himself down to kiss Roman, letting go of his wrists. He settled his weight on top of Roman, rubbing against him.

"You are a dirty boy."

"Uh huh," Dean moaned in agreement. "Lemme be your dirty boy."

"If you get me dirty, you're going to have to get me clean again," cautioned Roman. His hands found Dean's waist, his belt, unbuckled it, started to undo his pants. Dean's eyes lit up.

"Can I do it fast?" asked Dean.

"No. You're going to have to do it nice and slow and exactly how I tell you, otherwise you're not going to get what you want," drawled Roman.

Dean's pupils dilated with arousal at Roman's commanding tone. "Okay," he gulped.

"Now take off your pants and show me you're ready."

Dean knelt on the bed over Roman, pulling his pants and plain white briefs down to his knees. He was fully erect by this point and throbbing.

"Why don't you try using your left hand," Roman instructed Dean. "Nice and slow."

Dean's nostrils flared but he did what he was told. He stroked himself long and slow but firmly and with a tight grip, using his left hand.

"Roman," he said through gritted teeth. "How am I going to get off like this?"

"You'll find a way, if you want to badly enough," grinned Roman. "Just think about my hair. Think about getting your pearly white come all over my beautiful, shiny, dark hair and making me as dirty as you are. You're going to get it everywhere and then only you can make me clean again. Are you going to make me wait or are you going to clean me up right away?"

"I hadn't..." Dean panted. "Given it. That much. Thought. Just had a dream about it in the car before we almost died."

"We hardly died."

"Well, my brain went from 'coming on your best friend's head' to 'spinning out of control in a storm' pretty damn instantly." Dean stroked himself with intensity.

"Don't speed up. I didn't give you permission."

"Can I please abuse my own damn dick harder, sir?"

"Well, when you ask that nicely. But keep using that hand."

"I'm going to strangle you with the other."

"Ah ah ah, I did not consent to that," Roman said with a twinkle in his eye.

"Okay, no choking. What can I do with this hand?"

Roman looked down at his own crotch, then up at Dean. "Well."

"You have two perfectly good hands you're not using!" Dean protested.

"Hey, you asked. And I'm telling you. Stroke me with your right hand. I'll give you a head start." Roman unbuttoned his fly and pulled himself out of the top of his boxers, shoving them down around his hips. He gave himself three or four fast, hard strokes and then gestured to Dean. "Your turn."

Dean pursed his lips, frowning with concentration, and took hold of Roman's dick, stroking the both of them in time.

"Wait!" Dean said suddenly.

"Did I say you could stop?" Roman asked.

"I can't come in front of Shinsuke Nakamura." Dean was wide-eyed, like a cat caught shitting on the kitchen floor. Roman furrowed his eyebrows.

"...you know he can't see you through the tv, right?"

"But I know him! Kind of. We've met. It's weird with him looking at me."

"I thought you liked it when people looked at you while you were jacking off," Roman leered.

"I like when you do it. I liked doing it for Seth. But Shinsuke...I just can't."

"I have the remote."

"So that's what you were doing with your hands!"

"So I can turn it off. But you have to give me something in return."

"What?"

"Call my mom and tell her you'll come for Christmas?"

"What, like right now?"

"No, you doofus. Like tomorrow?"

"Is that all?"

"...and a rimjob in the shower."

"How am I supposed to wash your hair while I'm licking your asshole?" Dean asked with exasperation.

"I'm sure you'll think of something. So, deal?"

"Deal," grunted Dean. Roman hit the button to turn the tv off and the screen snapped dark with an electrical whine.

Dean licked each of his palms in turn while smirking and maintaining intense eye contact with Roman. Then he went back to work, stroking both of them slowly and firmly in time. He kept up the eye contact until Roman broke it, laughing.

"Okay, you can go fast now, Jesus," Roman gasped, flopping back on the bed.

"Thank fuck," Dean replied, speeding up his strokes. He worked both of them hard and fast. He knelt on the bed over Roman's legs, stroking both of them hard, flicking and twisting his wrist.

For a minute, there was no talking, just the sound of skin on skin, the comforter on the bed rustling underneath them, the squeak of the bedsprings, and their soft moans. Then Roman sucked in breath through his teeth. "I'm coming," he barked before he did, right there in Dean's right hand. It dripped all down his wrist and fingers as he kept stroking, messing up Roman's clothes just a little.

"I hope you weren't planning on wearing those pants tomorrow," Dean laughed breathlessly. He was still working himself with his left hand. He stopped jerking Roman's cock and brought his right hand up to his face to look at it.

"Okay, Dean, you can use your right hand now," panted Roman as they both grinned.

"Fucking finally." He grabbed his dick, slick with Roman's come and jerked himself hard, like he was alone and trying to be done fast, right now. He shut his eyes and leaned his head back, tweaking his own nipple with his left hand.

Roman sat up, watching Dean work himself over, watching with soft, admiring eyes. "Dirty Dean Ambrose likes to get messy."

"Rocket Roman Reigns likes to get done fast," Dean retorted. "We're good for each other." He opened his eyes. "How much warning do you want before I do it?"

"Ugh, just surprise me."

Dean instantly grabbed Roman behind the neck and pulled him down to crotch level as he yowled, spurting come all over his hair, the top of the head and the back of the head. Roman moaned too, shuddering with the intensity of the moment. He was already half-hard again.

A moment passed. Roman had a good view of Dean's balls but not what he looked like right now. He could feel Dean running his hand through his hair, mingling Roman's own come with what Dean had deposited generously all over his head.

"Are you done yet?" Roman asked.

"Fuck you, let me enjoy this."

"Please don't let it dry on me."

"Aw, come on, you didn't say how fast I had to clean you up."

Roman sighed. "I'm getting a cramp in my neck."

"Fine, get up. Let's shower off."

Dean let Roman up and they both stripped off the rest of their clothes, throwing them in a heap on the floor.

They went into the bathroom, only now realizing that their tiny room also had a tiny shower stall instead of a full tub.

"Are we both going to fit in there? I guess I can wash my own hair," Roman said, looking at himself in the mirror. He looked even more fucked than he actually had been so far that night.

"No, we'll fit. It'll be close," grinned Dean.

Dean grabbed the hotel room shampoo and followed Roman into the stall, shutting the door behind them. He put the shampoo up on the tiny soap shelf in the corner.

Roman started up the water, wincing at the cold spray that hit him before it warmed up. "Probably should have done that, then got in."

"Okay, turn around and get your hair wet," Dean instructed.

Roman turned around, brushing against Dean the whole time, until they were facing each other and Roman's hair was under the shower stream. Dean leaned in and kissed him hard, framing his waist with both hands and pulling him close. Roman ran his hands through his hair a few more times before wrapping them around Dean's shoulders and leaning down into the embrace. Their teeth clicked together, and Dean drew back, shaking his head. "Sorry, I just get carried away."

"It's okay. You've done worse to me in the ring."

"Tilt your head back."

Roman obliged, leaning back to let the water run from the edge of his scalp down to the ends of his long, black hair.

Dean reached up and ran his fingers down through it, rinsing it as much as he could and guiding Roman's head back and forth under the water. Then he reached up and grabbed the shampoo. He opened it and smelled it. Minty.

He held it under Roman's nose to smell. "Is this okay? I could try to find something else..."

"No, it's fine. I mean, you know I don't really wash it every day anyway."

"Yeah, you do the hippie girl vinegar thing that makes the bathroom smell like a salad most of the time."

"Don't be an ass, it's not just a girl thing. You could try it." Roman leaned his forehead against Dean's, looking into his eyes.

Dean backed up against the wall of the shower and filled his palm with the blue goo. He rubbed his hands together to lather up. "Okay, tilt your head back and hold still. I don't want to get it in your eyes."

"Yeah, that's an automatic DQ," Roman breathed.

"Who's going to throw me out?"

"Well, when I'm thrashing from the pain I could put you through the glass door."

"You have taken every bump possible but you think you're going to hulk out on me from shampoo in your eyes? Really, Reigns?"

"Just do it already."

Roman tilted his head back and shut his eyes. Dean felt a pang of emotion at how much Roman trusted him, and the trust he had in Roman in return. He put his hands on Roman's head, massaging the shampoo into his hair and working up a lather. He scrubbed his scalp with his fingers, working in smaller and then bigger circles. He snuck a kiss and a bite into the tender join between Roman's neck and shoulder, and Roman shuddered.

Dean kissed more, nibbling his shoulder, while scrunching his fingers in Roman's hair. He carded them down through it, working the lather all the way down to the tips of his curls. He smoothed the soapy hair from the top to bottom, then gently nudged Roman to lean his head under the water to rinse it all off.

While Roman was rinsing his own hair, Dean snuck a hand down Roman's back to the crack of his ass, using his still soapy fingers to rub up against his asshole.

Roman began to protest, but Dean put his other finger against Roman's lips to quiet him. "I said I would lick it. I didn't say I wouldn't wash it before I lick it." He rubbed his fingers up and down over Roman, feeling the pucker and the stretch as he put the tip of one finger in. He felt Roman tremble all over, eventually shaking his head back and forth under the water like a dog trying to dry off.

Roman squirmed to rinse the soap off all the places Dean had put it. The water sluiced down his body and into the crack of his ass, washing away the shampoo.

"Okay. You ready?" Roman asked Dean.

Instead of answering, Dean guided Roman back around, facing away from him, and maneuvered to his knees in the narrow stall. He knelt there for a moment, gathering up enough saliva to do the job. He used his fingers to spread Roman wide and dove in with his tongue, licking up with the flat of his tongue like he was eating out an ice cream bar, over and over. Roman moaned, his arms braced against the wall of the shower.

Dean probed Roman's center with the point of his tongue. He circled around the petaled crevice, darting in and out. He reached forward with one hand and massaged Roman's balls.

"Goddammit, Dean," Roman swore.

Dean sped things up, licking faster, pressing harder, humming. He leaned his cheek against Roman's body, pausing to take a breath.

"Dean. You wanna fuck me right now?"

"With my actual cock? Hell yeah." He sprang up to his feet, knocking against the wall and sending the shampoo bottle tumbling to the floor of the shower, emptying itself down the drain.

Roman was slick and open from the wetness of the shower and Dean's clever tongue. Dean gave his cock a few strokes to bring himself from cautiously semi-aroused to hard and ready. He found Roman's asshole with the tip of his cock and pressed in firmly, sliding in as Roman gasped and clenched his fists, pounding once against the wall of the shower.

Roman braced himself against the wall of the shower, planting his feet against the edges of the stall and leaning on his forearms and his hands spread against the wall. He rolled from his hips up to his head as Dean rode him hard.

Dean, for his part, tried not to fall on his ass in the slippery bathroom and to give his boy the time of his life. God knows he deserved it. Dean had a hard time imagining that he himself deserved anything good, as much as Roman argued with him about it, but he wanted to give Roman the world. He snapped his hips, trying to think of it as a gift.

Roman whimpered.

"What was that?" Dean asked.

Roman shook his head, wiping water out of his eyes. It was cascading over Dean's head and down his back before swirling down the drain.

"You gonna make me guess? You want a sandwich? Timmy's stuck down a well?" Dean laughed, snaking a hand around Roman's side to grab his chest, feel his pec, play with his nipple.

"Dammit, Dean," Roman hissed.

"Do you want me to stop?" Dean asked sincerely.

"No!"

"Okay then." Dean just fucked him harder, pressing their bodies together, sliding his right arm up and down Roman's chest and planting his left hand over Roman's left wrist, braced against the wall.

Roman moaned, softly first, then louder. "Dean, touch me."

"Oh, now you want me to touch you. What'll you give me in return?"

"I already let you come in my hair, what else do you want?"

"Tell me you love me."

"You know I love you."

"Tell me you need me, then."

"I need you, I need you to make me feel good, you make everything better..."

"Tell me I'm a good person."

Roman went quiet. Dean slowed his thrusts and reached around to jerk Roman off for the second time that night.

"It's okay," Dean said, "you don't have to say it if you don't mean it."

"No! You're a good person! I just--ugh," he grunted as Dean sped up again, "I just don't know why you need to be reminded. I love you. You're good. You're good enough."

Dean clutched at Roman harder, digging his nails into his skin. He came, coughing against the spray of shower water in his face. He shuddered and rested his head against Roman's shoulder. "I know. Like, I don't know? But I know I don't know." Roman was quiet again. Dean withdrew, a streak of come stringing from his softening cock to Roman's ass.

"Turn around, rinse off." Roman was pliant in his arms as Dean turned him so the water could wash down his back instead of his front.

"Lemme take care of you. Here." Dean said as he pulled them close and stroked Roman with a tight grasp but not too fast. Roman's cock was close between their two bodies. He put his arms around Dean, looked into his eyes, and kissed him, keeping his eyes open, soft, grey, warm. And then he was coming in Dean's arms, and there were tears in both of their eyes, hidden by the flow of the shower.

They broke the kiss but stayed there locked in an embrace. Dean ground his teeth, embarrassed at his display of sincerity. "I'm sorry, Ro."

"What are you sorry for? I came twice."

"You know. For getting all mushy on you." He turned them around and turned his back to Roman so he could rinse himself off under the water. He felt his own pruny hands on his skin as he rinsed Roman's come off. "How long have we been in the shower?"

"Kind of a long time. We should get out," Roman replied.

"But it's cold out there."

"I'll keep you warm. Let's dry off and get into bed."

"Okay."

Roman reached past Dean and turned the faucets off. Dean opened the shower stall door. The mirror had fogged to complete opacity and the air in the bathroom was thick and humid. He grabbed a towel and threw another one over to Roman. They dried off in silence.

Dean sighed, gearing up for the comparative cold of the rest of the hotel room. He regretted for a moment having to walk barefoot on the Super 8 motel carpet but he held his breathe, threw the door open, and pounced on the bed, quickly crawling under the covers and throwing them over his head. Roman followed, hitting the thermostat to warm the room up more, drying his hair with his towel and then dropping it, crawling under the covers with Dean.

"Still want to be the big spoon?" Roman asked, putting his arms around Dean from behind.

"Not really," he said into his pillow.

"Fine with me." He hummed and sighed into Dean's shoulder.

"Sorry for being weird." Dean clutched the pillow tighter.

"Stop it, Dean," Roman insisted. "You need to let yourself be loved. Don't you trust my taste?"

Dean humphed.

"Yeah, that's what I thought. C'mon, let's go to sleep."

"Did you set the alarm?"

"My phone's plugged in and set for 6 just like every damn day."

"Kay."

Dean closed his eyes but didn’t sleep until he felt Roman’s breathing even out in peaceful repose. Only then could he let himself relax, drifting off with the thought that a stray night with Roman away from prying eyes was a pretty damn nice gift. Christmas would be okay.

 

 


End file.
